


There Was A Wealthy Merchant.

by steeleye



Category: Blackadder II, Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV), Tradition Ballard
Genre: Action/Adventure, F/M, Humour, Past slayers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-20
Updated: 2018-08-22
Packaged: 2019-06-30 06:08:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15745833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/steeleye/pseuds/steeleye
Summary: Buffy was not the first Slayer who wanted a normal life.





	1. Chapter 1

‘There Was A Wealthy Merchant.’

By Steeleye.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own BtVS or the song that this fic is based around. I write these stories for fun not profit.

 **Crossover:** None, almost a song fic but not. Inspired by a folk song.

 **Spelling and Grammar:** Written in glorious UK-English the original and best, which is different to (and infinitely superior to) US-English

 **Timeline:** Set in 1588.

 **Words:** Three chapters of 1000+ words.

 **Warnings:** Beware the dreadful Spindly Killer Fish!

 **Summary:** Buffy was not the first Slayer who wanted a normal life.

0=0=0=0

_There was a wealthy merchant,  
In London he did dwell.  
He had a beautiful daughter,  
The truth to you I’ll tell._

**London, May, 1588.**

The serving wench picked her way along the narrow, fetid alleyway by the light of a guttering lantern. It was late and the girl should have been home safe in bed hours ago. However, the sailors in port preparing to face the Spanish fleet had wanted more than beer, so, she’d had to work later than she normally would have.

Lifting the lantern high with one hand and hitching up her skirts with the other, she tried to avoid the worst of the filth that covered the cobbles making them slick and slippery. She never noticed the shadow move until the man stood in front of her. The girl screamed in terror as she saw the man’s distorted face, yellow eyes and sharp fangs. Dropping her lantern she fell to her knees to pray and beg for mercy.

The man laughed at her and moved towards where she knelt, the moonlight glinted off his fangs; his fine clothes all besmirched with grave dirt, he stank of corruption and death. He grabbed hold of the girl’s shoulders to pull her to her feet and bring his fangs in reach of her pretty, white, neck. Before he could fore-fill his evil plan there was a soft ‘twang’ from further down the alley.

The Vampire looked down in surprise at the cloth-yard-shaft that’d sprouted from his chest. As if by magic the vampire turned to dust, still with a look of surprise on his evil countenance, and settled on the ground at the girl’s feet.

“Well done Maggie!” cried a woman’s voice from out of the darkness, “I thought the begging and praying was particularly convincing!”

“Thank-you Miss Anne,” the girl stooped to retrieve her lantern then turned to face the young woman who'd stepped out from the shadows.

The woman addressed as ‘Miss Anne’ smiled at her young helper as she leaned on her longbow.

“’Tis a pity that girls aren’t allowed to work in the theatre,” Anne observed, “for I’d wager you’d make more than you can as a serving girl or whore.”

“But Miss,” replied the girl as she relit her candle with flint and steel, “girls can work in the theatre…as long as they’re flat on their backs!”

Both young women laughed at the old joke, and the injustice of the world.

“Do you want me to walk the rest of the way home with you?” Anne asked concerned for the young girl’s safety.

“No, thank-you kindly Miss,” smiled Maggie as she turned to continue her journey, “I’ll be right.” 

“Here!” called Anne as she flicked a silver threepenny coin to the girl, “For a job well done.”

Maggie caught the coin and thrust it in the pocket of her apron before running off into the night.

Anne stood for a moment letting her new found senses roam, she could feel no other ‘Leeches’ or indeed any other 'Creatures of the Night', she smiled to herself.

“It’s alright Master Thomas,” she called into the Stygian night, “you can come out now.”

A few yards away a shadow moved and Master Thomas Harris stepped into a shaft of moonlight. 

Master Thomas was a man of middling height although a little stooped from his forty or so years as a Master Tailor. His hair was grey, almost white, but he still had most of his own teeth in his mouth. He was Mistress Anne’s ‘Watcher’; he tried to insist that Anne call him ‘Master Watcher’. This, of course, made Anne want to call him Master Thomas even more. This, in turn, annoyed him all the more as he had ideas about improving his position in life. He liked to think himself privy to all the decisions made by the great men who ran the Council of Watchers for the Queen; when he was in fact little more than their servant.

However, apart from these few flaws he was a kindly man who, if truth was known, loved her almost as much as her father did. He also owned a large workshop where Anne could practice her fighting skills; store her weapons and the boy’s clothes she habitually wore when she was on the hunt. 

“I wish you would not consort with these low persons,” he stomped his way over to where Anne stood.

“Low persons, you say?” Anne searched in the muck for her arrow, “Maggie is a sweet girl and a useful ally, she risks her life to help us; you’d do well to follow her example.”

Thomas huffed and muttered darkly to himself about headstrong young women, who just because they were 'The Slayer' thought they could fly in the face of all that were right and proper. 

Bending over the vampire's remains, Anne picked up her arrow and inspected it for damage. Since she had become the slayer she'd found that she could see almost as well in the dark as she did in the day. Even without the strength and the speed her slayer heritage gave her. This one ‘skill’ alone would be worth a King’s ransom in a world lit only by candles.

“What o’clock is it?” she asked unstringing her longbow.

The weapon had been made especially for her and she knew of no man who was strong enough to string it.

“Must be near midnight,” Master Thomas sniffed the night air like a hound.

“Come,” Anne called as she strode off into the dark, “we must away to your house; that I may change into my womanly clothing.”

“Mistress Anne,” Thomas followed the hurrying young woman out onto a main street that was slightly better lit by the moon, “I have known you for no more than three months, and in that time I’ve come to know when you are lying to me!”

“What gave me away?” mock concern tinged Anne's voice as she glanced over her shoulder.

“It’s when you start to talk all courtly, like they do in one of those ‘round-house’ nasties you’re so fond of!” Thomas tried to hide the smile that played around his lips.

“Oh! Woe is me!” cried Anne placing her hand on her forehead and faining distress, “I am undone!” she giggled, “Alright you’ve caught me out…I’m off to see my darling Jack, if you must know.”

Thomas tutted and muttered as the two hurried along the street. Slayers had no business consorting with young men. It was bad enough that she still lived in her father’s house, or so he had been told.

“The Slayer should not concern herself with such things,” he lectured, “in fact she should…”

“Why?” Anne demanded coming to a sudden stop and turning to face Thomas.

Thomas spluttered to a halt in mid lecture.

“Why?” he hesitated as he tried to gather his thoughts, “Why, you ask? Be-because it has always been thus!” he announced haughtily as if that simple statement answered everything.

Anne eyed her mentor sceptically for a moment before turning and continuing her progress toward Master Thomas’ shop; she was not convinced.

0=0=0=0

Once back at Master Thomas’ workshop Anne quickly ran into the small back room she used for changing and stripped off her men’s clothes and struggled into her dress. It was not one of her good dresses, but one that she wore when helping her father with his accounts. It was a dark brown colour and made of the good wool cloth her father imported from Flanders. She brushed out her long auburn hair and called to Master Thomas.

“Master Thomas would you be so kind as to lace up my dress?” Anne eyed herself in the fragment of mirror that rested on a shelf over the table where her dress had lain.

The old man cautiously poked his head around the door and then walked across the room to where she stood. He picked up the laces and started to pull them tight as Anne hung on to the table. In the short time he’d been her Watcher he had become quite proficient in helping her dress after a hunt.

“What would your father say if he found out about this Jack fellow?” Thomas heaved on the laces manfully as he spoke.

“We’ll never know because he’ll never find out,” explained Anne as she felt her bodice get tighter around her chest and stomach, she waved her hand to signal Thomas to stop.

“Not from my lips!” exclaimed Thomas tying off the laces and hiding the ends down the back of Anne’s dress, “That would lead to all kinds of mischief.”

“Indeed,” Anne slipped a slim wooden stake down her bodice between her breasts, “Like, what does an old man like you do with a respectable young woman like myself at this time of night?”

“If only I was twenty years younger,” Thomas shook his head sadly.

“You’d still be too old for me!” Anne leaned towards her Watcher and kissed him lightly on the check, “Until tomorrow,” there was a swish of material as she passed Thomas by and then she was gone.

Thomas put his hand to his cheek where she had kissed him, and wondered, as he always did, ‘How does she vanish like that?’

0=0=0=0

Twenty-one year old Jack Howard was the eldest son of Captain Henry Howard who owned and commanded ‘The Great Peter’, a merchant ship. In more peaceful times The Great Peter would carry cargoes of raw wool from England to Flanders, and then bring loads of wool cloth back to London. However, with England expecting a Spanish invasion almost daily the ship and crew had been taken into the Queen’s service and was now being fitted out for war.

Jack and Anne had met as their fathers often did business together. They had quickly fallen in love and Anne was eager to marry her true love. Jack, however, said it would not be fitting to marry until he could provide for her in the manner to which she was accustomed. He saw the coming war as an opportunity for fame, and more importantly fortune. One good prize could set them up for life, Jack for all of his swaggering, sea-dog ways was at heart a responsible young man, more suited to trade than war.

Hiding in the shadows of the stables behind the White Hart Inn, if her father ever found out what she did at night he would most likely die of shame, Anne watched closely as the man of her dreams exited from the rear of the Inn. He stood for a moment staring into the darkness whistling a sailor’s call.

“Jack!” She called from the darkness, and ran to his waiting arms.

0=0=0=0


	2. Chapter 2

2.

Rosy fingered dawn crept into her room and tried to pry Anne’s eyelids open. Resisting for some little while she finally gave up the unequal struggle. Anne reached out and pulled the curtains to her bed apart.

“God’s teeth!”Anne exclaimed as she sat up and started to shake Jack awake where he lay snoring next to her, “Get up!” she hissed, “It’s past dawn…if my father should find us all will be lost!”

Jack slowly came to, and then seeing the sun shining in through the window he let out a surprised yelp and jumped naked from the bed and almost tripped over one of his boots. In a panic he started to pick up his clothes while at the same time trying to dress. Time for a little slayer common sense thought Anne.

“Stop!” Anne commanded, shocked Jack did as he had been told, “Now my love get dressed quickly, but more importantly quietly.”

This seemed to steady Jack’s nerves a little; his original panic had after all been quite understandable. No young man wanted to get caught in the bedchamber of the daughter of one his father’s business associates. Even if they had spent the night reading the bible together, which Jack and Anne had most assuredly not, it would still have the most terrible consequences for all concerned. While these thoughts were going through Jack’s mind, Anne had been sitting in bed watching her lover dress and thinking how slightly ridiculous men looked with no clothes on. Suddenly all thoughts of naked, well muscled young men fled from Anne’s mind.

“When will you be back?” Anne pulled the sheets up around her neck to hide her own nakedness.

“That depends on the Spanish,” Jack was now fully dressed and buckling on his rapier, he hesitated for a moment and looked down at Anne, “whatever happens I’ll be home by the Autumn. The Spanish won’t try anything in the winter.”

“But…” sniffed Anne as her eyes filled with tears.

Jack sat back down on the bed beside her and took her in his arms as he had done the night before.

“Fear naught lass,” he tried to sound reassuring, “there hasn’t been a Spanish ship built that can catch the ‘Peter’, nor a cannonball made that can sink her.”

“You’re right of course,” Anne sniffed and wiped her eyes with the corner of the sheet. “you go off and burn the King of Spain’s trousers; the Queen needs all the seaman she can get,” the young couple smiled at the old play on words.

Jack kissed her one last time and then stood up, boots in hand, and tip-toed towards the window. 

“Don’t forget,” he called softly, “I’ll be back no later than the Autumn and I’ll ask your father for your hand and we’ll have a fine wedding.”

Jack opened the window and climbed out on to the roof, in a moment he was gone. Moment’s later Anne started to cry again, she didn’t cry for herself, she cried for her darling Jack. She knew he would be as safe as anyone in the fleet, and even in peacetime a sailor’s life was hard and dangerous, she understood and accepted that. She cried for Jack because, by the time he came home she could well be dead, she knew that slayers had short lives. It was one of the reasons she had let him into her bed the night before. Anne wasn't frightened of falling pregnant, she didn’t expect to live long enough for it to be a problem.

0=0=0=0

Sitting in the small office at her father’s warehouse on the banks of the river Thames, Anne cast her eyes down the long columns of figures in one of her father’s ledgers. Noticing a mistake she crossed out the number and replaced it with the correct one; she recalculated the total and placed the revised amount at the bottom of the page. Sitting back she admired her handy-work and thought herself a lucky young woman. Not many fathers would pay to have their daughters taught such useful things as bookkeeping and arithmatic. They would be useful skills for any wife of a merchant had she not been chosen by God to be The Slayer.

“Daughter?” it was her father’s voice from down below in the warehouse.

“In the office father,” Anne listened as her father made his way upstairs to the small office where she worked.

“Good-day to you Daughter,” he stood in the doorway catching his breath before he entered the room and sat down in the only other chair.

“Good morning father,” smiled Anne turning away from her ledgers, “what can I do for you this morning?”

“I can’t visit my charming and beautiful daughter without wanting something?” her father said in mock surprise, “Maybe I just wanted to see how you were faring this bright spring day.” He paused for a moment and sighed wistfully, “It does seem to me that although we live in the same house, these past few months I’ve hardly seen anything of you.” 

“’Tis the pending war father,” Anne knew exactly what her father was talking about, “it makes business so much more difficult. As you know Captain Howard and the ‘Peter’ left for the fleet two weeks hence…”

“And young Jack with him too.” her f added with a smile, Anne was about to protest but her father held up his hand for quiet.

“You know I don’t mind you having sweethearts by dear, you’re a sensible girl,” her father sat back in the chair and relaxed, “and Jack’s a good lad, and his father's a good and honourable man; but Jack is not the match I had planned for you.”

Anne sighed, almost every day the subject of her marriage came up. Before she’d become the slayer she’d have followed her father’s wishes without complaint, but now… Now it was just another bothersome detail in her already complicated life. Plus she didn’t expect to live long enough for it to be that important.

“What am I to tell Sir Philip, daughter mine?” her father wanted to know, “He's a most learned and rich man. You and your children would want for nothing.”

Yes, thought Anne, Sir Philip De Gyles was indeed, rich, well read and, strangely for someone that old, a very jolly fellow. Anne did in fact like the man, even if he was more than twice her age and had children by his previous marriage. These ‘children’ were nearly as old as she was. If things had been different she would have sadly kissed Jack farewell and married Sir Philip without a qualm. But now…now with her being the slayer it would be unfair on the good Sir Philip to widow him twice. Anne thought for a moment, quickly she came up with a plan that would keep both her father and Sir Philip happy.

“Father, in six months when I turn seventeen,” explained Anne thoughtfully, “Only then will I marry Sir Philip, and not a day before…you have my word on it.”

“I can tell Sir Philip?” her father asked smiling lovingly at his daughter.

“Indeed you may,” she smiled at the joy on her father’s face, while trying to hide the sadness that was in her heart.

Not only had he done his duty by his only child, but he was fairly sure now that she would be happy and well cared for after he had died. Anne smiled at her father, one more problem solved she thought, by the time she was seventeen she would no doubt be dead. The idea brought a tear to her eye; her father thought she was crying with joy and gratitude.

0=0=0=0

Several nights later Anne stood and wiped the blood from the blade of her rapier; she looked down at her blood stained clothes. She was wearing a suit made for the son of a wealthy banker; the lad had died before it had been finished, so he had no use for it now. It had joined Anne’s wardrobe of disguises. Her doublet and hose were covered in blood; it would take Master Thomas’ servants’ days to get it back into wearable condition again.

God’s teeth, how she hated having to kill Catholics. Everyone knew that Catholics were the spawn of Satan but they looked and sounded so much like honest English people. Even if they did plot to kill the Queen at every turn and bring England low, she still hated having to kill them like this. 

Killing the men, that Anne could stomach, they at least could fight back however ineffectually. It was the way that the mothers tried to protect their children that broke her heart. The way they begged and prayed for mercy brought tears to her eyes even as she ran her sword through their bodies, and as for having to slit the throats of the children that made her sick to her stomach.

Surely the slayer was better than this? Surely the slayer should be the protector of the people, be they Protestant, Catholic, Jew or other heathen, and not be their executioner? She would have no more of this she told herself as she walked from the room where the bodies lay and away from the smell of blood. From now on no matter what the powerful men who sent their orders to Master Thomas said, she was ‘The Slayer’ not some hired footpad with a sharp knife.

Looking back at the bodies of the family she had just killed, Anne heard Master Thomas enter the room, she looked round to study his face in the flickering candlelight. There was no sign of remorse or pity there, as she was sure there would not have been any had the positions been reversed and a Catholic girl now stood where she did.

“I will have no more of this,” Anne announced in a voice that would brook no argument. “You can tell your Master’s that the Slayer does not kill people anymore. If they want this work done in future they will have to employ their own cut-throats.”

“But Mistress Anne,” Thomas cried urgently, “the slayer has always done the bidding of the council, and…”

“NO MORE!” Anne whipped her blade up to Master Thomas’ throat, “I have said I will kill no more of God’s people no matter how misguided they may be. However,” Anne narrowed her eyes as she pressed the blade of her rapier harder against Thomas’ throat, “if they wish to press the matter, I’m willing to make some exceptions…enough of this!” Anne cried as she sheathed her sword, “Let us away.”

0=0=0=0

Anne didn’t know how much the Council of Watchers knew about the dreams slayers dreamt. As they never asked after them or mentioned them, she suspected that this was a secret know only to the slayer herself. Sometimes she dreamt of dangers that she would have to face, other times she found she could commune with the ghosts of slayers past, and sometimes she found she was talking to slayers as yet unborn. They spoke strangely and wore outlandish and immodest clothes, but they were all her sisters. There was one young blonde slayer who lived in the far future who she often dreamt about, but she’d never been able to speak to her.

Anne found herself watching episodes from this Slayers life as if standing in the pit at the theatre watching a play. Sometimes she would find herself laughing in her sleep, other times she woke up crying as a cruel fate played with this girl’s life. It appeared to Anne that this particular slayer was very important, but she could never work out why, and however hard she tried she could never break through the invisible barrier that separated their lives from each other.

As Anne walked along the darkened streets towards Master Thomas’s shop she made a promise to herself. No matter what, and with God's help, when she eventually died she would appear to all future Slayers and tell them that they should avoid killing people in all but the most extreme of circumstances.

0=0=0=0


	3. Chapter 3

3.

It was now a good six weeks since Jack had sailed away to fight the Spanish. Each day Anne would ask the ship’s Captain’s that came to her father’s warehouse if they had any news of the ‘Great Peter’, and every day she would be disappointed. Every night as she knelt by her bed to say her prayers she begged a merciful God to keep her sweetheart safe.

Eventually she could take the not knowing no longer. After a particularly frenzied battle with a trio of Vampires, Anne came to the decision that she must find out what had happened to her Jack. When she and Master Thomas returned to the tailor’s shop she did not change into her women clothes as was her usual habit. Instead she threw herself into a chair, and then taking a flagon of beer she drank deeply.

“Master Thomas,” Anne wiped the beer foam from her lips with the back of her hand, “How many vampires have I killed in the past month?”

Thomas considered his reply as he poured a mug of beer for himself, “A score at least, why do you ask?”

“Then,” Anne studied Thomas’ face in the candle light, “you would agree that I have put back Satan’s and the Vicar of Rome's plans enough so the Kingdom will not be overrun by fiends, if I were to absent myself for a month or two?”

“What are you suggesting Anne?” Thomas looked at her with fear in his eyes, “What do you intend to do?”

“I’m going to look for my Jack!” Anne stood up and started to search the room for pen, ink and paper.

Thomas looked at her in shock, “But my dear Anne you can’t just desert your calling!”

Anne found some writing materials and wrote a note in her clear round hand and addressed it to her father, she folded it in three and handed it to Thomas.

“Make sure my father receives this,” she turned from Thomas who stood holding her letter and watching her in horror.

“You can’t do this!” he wailed in despair, “It is unheard of for a slayer to desert her post.”

“I’ll be back,” Anne collected up her best rapier, her longbow and a quiver of shafts, “I’ll only be gone a month…two at most. Then I will slay every demon in the Kingdom.” 

She grinned at Thomas reassuringly.

A dagger disappeared into the top of her boot while another joined her rapier at her waist. She searched through her wardrobe of disguises and selected a couple of suitable outfits and stuffed them in a sack with a couple of spare shirts. Turning back to Thomas she held out her hand.

“Money!” she demanded to be met with a blank look from Thomas, “I know the Council sends you money for weapons and such, plus my upkeep. Now as I still live with my father and buy most of my weapons myself there must be a pretty penny left over.”

Thomas stared back at her defiantly, but soon wilted under her slayer strength gaze. Reluctantly he went over to a cupboard and brought forth a strong box from its depths. With an ill grace he produced a key and unlocked the box. He lifted the lid and took a purse that clinked with the promise of the coins within. He turned back to Anne his eyes glistening in the flickering candle light.

“Is there nothing I can do or say that will stop you from this foolishness?” he pleaded as he handed over the purse.

“Unless you can bring my Jack back to me…no,” she took the purse and weighed it in her hand, “Remember, be sure my father gets the note,” she reminded him as she turned to go.

“Anne!” Thomas rushed over to her and wrapped her in his arms, “Come back to your foolish old watcher won’t you?”

“Frightened I’ll spend all your money?” Anne joked, a little surprised by Thomas’ reaction.

“Yes…yes that’s right,” Thomas let go of her and stood back, this was not proper, he wiped at his eyes with a rag, “Now if you’re going go before I make a complete fool of myself.”

Anne stepped up to the old man and kissed him on the check, “Until we meet again my good sweet Thomas,” turning and in an instant she was gone.

“God’s speed,” called Thomas quietly as he once again wondered how the girl could move so quickly.

0=0=0=0

Anne stood in the early morning sun on Tilbury docks and looked up at the ship docked there. The sign at the foot of the gangplank read ‘The Black Pig’; she had looked and sure enough the ship had a black pig as a figure head. The Captain must have a light hearted nature to call his ship thus, Anne thought, other than this the ship looked well found and neat and clean.

Anne knew enough about ships from helping her father to know a good one when she saw one. In happier days she would be happy to entrust a cargo to the Master of the Black Pig. Anne counted the gun ports in her side, twenty cannon to a side a good forty guns in all. No doubt the Captain would always be looking for volunteers to fill her births what with the threat of invasion and the promise of prizes to be taken.

Anne was confident that she could get herself signed aboard. Her disguise was good; she looked like any young lad out looking for adventure and fame. As for her womanly attributes, while not being exactly flat-chested her breasts were not so large as they could not be concealed under a loose shirt. She would just have to be careful about other things, and anyway a little shyness was to be expected from a well brought up lad on his first voyage. Taking a deep breath, well not too deep, Anne set her shoulders and marched up the gangplank.

0=0=0=0

Anne presented herself to the ship’s First Mate who stood at the top of the gangplank preventing access to the rest of the Black Pig. Anne looked quickly around the deck, now was the time to decide whether this was the ship for her. The rigging looked tort and well maintained. Hatches not in use were battened down and cannon were lashed securely to the deck. Everything looked clean and in place.

“AAAAAAAHRRRRRR! Aaaaaahrrrrr, Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahrrrrrrrrrr! Me laddy!” Aahr’ed the Mate, “What can I be doing for ‘e?”

The mate had a mass of wild red hair, a wooden leg and a patch over his left eye. Obviously a man of great experience, Anne felt even more confident that this was the right ship for her.

“I wish to sign aboard to fight the Don’s Sir!” Anne lowered her voice by an octave or two.

The Mate looked at her and her gear suspiciously, “Let me be seeing y’hands me laddy.”

Anne held out her hands, the Mate took them in his great calloused paws.

“Aaaahrrrr!” exclaimed the Mate dramatically, “You have a woman’s hands me laddy. I’ll wager these dainty pinkies never weighed anchor in a storm.”

“Well no you’re right there.” Anne replied truthfully; the Mate rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb.

“Ha-ha-ha! Aaah!” laughed the Mate, he did seem a jolly fellow, “Your skin laddy, I’ll wager it ne’er felt the lash of a cat ‘o’ nine tails, been rubbed with salt, and then flayed off by a pirate chief to make fine stocking for his best cabin boy.”

“Not now you’ve mentioned it,” replied Anne earnestly, “does that sort of thing happen a lot then?”

“Not often,” admitted the mate wistfully, “now lad why should I let ‘e aboard The Black Pig?”

“Perhaps,” answered Anne thinking that bribery might be the way to go, “for the money in my purse?” 

She held up her purse and had it snatched out of her hand.

“Ha! Aaaah! You have a woman’s purse!” The mate exalted as he daintily examined the contents of the purse. “I’ll wager this purse has never been used as a row-boat. I’ll wager it’s never had sixteen shipwrecked mariners tossing in it!”

“Once again,” Anne was by now thinking she had made the biggest mistake of her life, “Master Mate you’ve proved you can see right through me.”

The Mate studied Anne closely, “I’d wager, that those ruby red lips of ‘e’s got thee in trouble with some fair wench, an’ ‘er father is as we speak looking for ‘e to make an ‘onest woman o’ ‘er!”

“Well…” shrugged Anne with a disarming grin, no doubt her father was in fact looking for her, with the intention of making an honest woman of her.

“Oh! But ‘e have a woman’s mouth laddy,” roared the Mate throwing his arms wide, “I’ll wager that mouth never had to chew through the side o’ a ship to escape the dreadful Spindly Killer Fish!”

“Not as such,” agreed Anne sadly shaking her head.

“Well that’s alright then,” the mate now spoke in a more normal tone of voice, “don’t want people chewing through the side o’ the ship now do ‘e?”

“Umm, no Master Mate,” agreed Anne hope rekindled in her heart.

“So lad you want to sign aboard?” asked the Mate bringing out a ledger that had been resting against the Bulwark, he next produced a quill and an ink pot. The Mate took the pen, opened the ledger and dipped the nib in the ink, “Now me laddy what be y’name?”

“Jack-a-Roe, Master Mate.” replied Anne.

“ AAAAAAAAARRRRRRRHHHH! That be a woman’s name!” exclaimed the Mate.

“No it’s not!” replied Anne indignantly.

The Mate thought about this for a moment.

“Y’quite right,” he admitted, “got a bit carried away there!”

0=0=0=0

The Black Pig left Tilbury docks on the evening tide and started to make her way slowly around the coast towards Southampton where she would join one of the squadrons waiting for the Spanish to appear in the channel. At first the crew were sceptical of Anne’s worth. However, after she had shot several seagulls on the wing with her longbow, and beaten all comers at sword practice she, or more importantly young Jack-a-Roe, was accepted by all the crew.

Because of her keen eyesight and her uncanny ability to see in the dark, Anne often found herself on lookout duty at night. On this particular night The Black Pig was sailing in company with several other ships. They expected to sight the Don’s in the morning, Anne stood in the shrouds watching the waves when she felt someone step up behind her.

“See anything laddy?” it was the mate’s gruff voice.

“All clear Master Mate,” reported Anne as she continued to scan the sea for danger.

“We’ll be sighting the Don’s come dawn no doubt, me laddy,” observed the Mate thoughtfully. “An’ shortly after that we’ll have at ‘em…send ‘em all to Davy Jones’ Locker ha-ha!”

“By the grace of God, I pray that is so Master Mate,” Anne had the feeling that the Mate wanted to ask her something but didn’t know how to put it.

“If there’s anything you’d be wantin’ to tell y’old Mate, Coz now would be a good time t’do it me laddy,” the Mate scratched the back of his head as he spoke, a look akin to great confusion on his face.

“No Master Mate,” Anne replied confidently, “I’m looking forward to getting at the Don’s…”

“Oh come off it laddy!” exploded the Mate suddenly, “I might be an’ old, mad, Sea-dog wi’ only one leg an’ one eye, but I ain’t stupid! Did you really think y’could get away wi’ it on a ship full o’ men?”

“Get away with what?” asked Anne backing away from the Mate.

“Why it’s as plain as the nose on y’face an’ the tities down y’shirt!” the Mate seemed relieved to have said his piece.

“Gods teeth,” sighed Anne, “I thought I’d covered them up so well. I suppose you’ll put me a shore now?”

The Mate considered before speaking again, “Don’t think I’d no’ thought o’ it laddy. But the crew…the crew wanted ‘e to stay. Y’pull more than y’weight, y’honest an’ clean and nerry a bad word for anyone.” Anne breathed a sigh of relief. “What I be needin’ to know me laddy is…when the shots whistlin’ o’er y’ead, an’ the Don’s are coming for ‘e o’er the bulwalks you’ll not be screaming an’ cryin’ fer y’mammy now!”

“Rest assured Master Mate,” Anne looked the old sailor straight in the eye, “it would not make me tremble to see ten thousand fall. I laugh at cannon balls, and there’s not a Don alive who can best me in a fight.”

The Mate eyed her for a long minute; eventually he cleared his throat and spoke.

“If e’ be sure Jack me laddy,” the mate gave Anne an exaggerated wink, “I’ll take ye word on it, an’ no one will say a word that y’not what y’say y’are.” 

The Mate turned to walk away; before he had gone more than a pace or two he turned to face Anne once more. 

“I were right though,” a great grin split his face in the darkness, “you did have a woman’s hands!” 

The Mate roared with laughter as he made his way below decks.

0=0=0=0

As the Mate had predicted they sighted the Spanish the next day and attacked almost immediately. The English ships attacked like wolves trying to destroy their larger Spanish enemies. The fast manoeuvrable English ships would try to cut out a Spanish ship from the mass or surround a straggler. Once surrounded they would pound it until it was safe to board and take her for a prize.

Anne found herself put in the ‘tops’ where she could use her eyes and longbow to best effect. When the Black Pig got within bowshot of a Spanish vessel. While her guns pounded at the Don, Anne would pick off officers and the enemy gunners. The battle went on for days until the English ships had exhausted their shot and powder and the Spanish had made the coast of northern France at Gravelines.

By this time the Black Pig was a shadow of her former self. The Captain lay mortally wounded and the Mate commanded. Like most other ships there was no more powder and shot for her cannon or arrows for the crew's bows and crossbows. The rigging and sails hung in tatters from her yards and the crew had to man the pumps day and night to keep her afloat. Even so it was with a heavy heart that the Mate turned the Black Pig towards London and Tilbury.

0=0=0=0

The news that the Spanish fleet had been burnt or scattered to the four winds beat the Black Pig home as did many ships laden with wounded. When the Black Pig finally limped into Tilbury, Anne saw the wharfs and jetties covered with the bodies of wounded sailors left to fend for themselves now they had done their duty. Many town's people were doing the best they could to aid the injured and dieing. But many sailors died there because the Queen failed to loosen her purse strings.

After being paid off and wished good luck by the mate and crew Anne wandered the docks looking for her Jack.

“Jack!” she would call as she walked between the rows of the wounded, “Jack Howard of the Great Peter?”

“A silver Crown to anyone who can tell me the where abouts of Jack Howard of the Great Peter!” Her cry becoming more desperate as the time past. 

Near evening she found a sailor who claimed to have been aboard the Great Peter and in the thick of the fight. He said he had seen Jack struck down by a flying splinter. He had been carried below and later sent back to Tilbury. With renewed hope Anne continued her search.

0=0=0=0

It was late in the evening and already dark when Anne finally found her sweetheart. If it had not been for her slayer senses she would have walked right by his bloodied and broken body. Kneeling down by his side she gently kissed his swollen lips. Carefully she placed her arms under his body and lifted him up.

People stared at the young lad who carried the desperately injured sailor through the streets of London until they came to Master Thomas Harris’ tailors shop. The old Watcher opened the door to her frantic knocking and stared at the apparition before him. For a moment he did not recognise his slayer until she spoke. Leading the pair into his workshop Thomas sent one of his apprentices for a physician who arrived within the hour. For many days and nights Anne stayed by Jack’s bedside, refusing to rest until she was sure he would recover; which in due course he did.

_This couple they got married,  
So well they did agree.  
This couple they got married,  
So why not you and me?_

THE END.

0=0=0=0

Authors Note: This whole sorry tail was inspired by a folk song off one of my Steeleye Span CD’s. Listening to the words I thought ‘That girls just gotta be a Slayer!’

I’m no great expert on the events surrounding the destruction of the Spanish Armada in 1588, so, I’ve played fast and loose with history to make everything fit with my story.

It does appear that Queen Elizabeth delayed paying off the crews of the warships and kept them on station until many had died of disease. Only then were the ships recalled and the crews paid off, this was a stain on the Queen’s popularity for some time. However, time and Hollywood are great healers and nowadays few people know of this black mark against Good Queen Bess’ name.

From the album, ‘Bedlam Born’.  
Highlight and right click to hear the song.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CZ9xo23ath0


End file.
